


Unpacking Our Second Chance

by TsaritsaElena



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s, AU, F/M, Fix-it fic, Howard finds Steve early
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 23:50:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5605678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TsaritsaElena/pseuds/TsaritsaElena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Peggy said goodbye to Steve, she packed him away. Nearly three years later, Howard has discovered and unfrozen Captain America. Steve wants a second chance, but is it coming too late for Peggy?</p><p>Written for the 2015 Steggy Secret Santa Exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unpacking Our Second Chance

**Author's Note:**

> For reginahastings on tumblr. You mentioned liking AU fic, but I didn’t know if that meant “Film Noir!AU” or “deviates from canon, at which point it becomes AU.” I ended up going with the latter, and I hope that you still enjoy the Steggy and that it's not too overwrought. >_>; Happy Holidays and Happy New Year!
> 
>  **Canon Compliance:** With respect to Peggy, this fic is compliant to the end of Agent Carter, Season 1, but is not compliant with the Zodiac case in the Peggy Carter one-shot. With respect to Steve, well, it should be obvious where it deviates from canon.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I don’t own any of these characters or copyrighted material, and I make no money or other material profit from this fanwork. No copyright infringement is intended.

_Tears streaming down her face, she uncorked the vial and slowly tipped its contents into the river below._

_"'Bye, my darling."_

The day Peggy said goodbye to Steve, she packed him away. When the sun finally set and the sky grew dark, Peggy reluctantly returned to her apartment where she set about the task of saying goodbye to Steve once and for all. She gathered up the letters from him, tucked carefully in her dresser drawer. She gathered up the sketches he'd drawn for her, pressed carefully into her journal. And she gathered up the photo of him, oh that beautiful photo of him, that she'd first kept at her work desk and then stored inside her jewelry box.  
  
Peggy gathered up all those things of Steve, all those reminders of their time together. Reverently, she placed them one by one inside an old shoebox. And when that was done, she shut the box and secured it 'round and round with packing tape until it covered the whole box. With one last look, Peggy buried it in the back of her closet, out of sight, out of mind. Forgotten—at least for a while.

The day Peggy said goodbye to Steve, she packed him away.

————————————*————————————

_"I gotta put 'er in the water."_

"You won't be alone."

_"Oh my God! This guy's still alive!"_

_"Slowly, slowly! If you revive him too quickly, he'll die!"_

_The icy water rushed up to meet him and then all he could see was white._

 

Steve returned to consciousness just before his dream-self hit the ice. Fighting the Red Skull... putting the plane in the ocean... the last thing he remembered was plunging to his death. So where was he now?

Steve slowly opened his eyes, looking around the room. Metal walls. Rivets, holding the curved sheets together. A faint rush of air and pressure on his ears that meant he was on a plane somewhere. He looked to his right and saw—

" _Howard?_ "

Sure enough, Howard Stark was slumped over in a hard, metal chair, seated just next to his bed.

Howard jerked awake, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Steve! You're awake!"

"Howard, what happened?"

"I'll explain everything," he said distractedly, getting up out of the chair. "Let me get the nurses first, they need to take your vitals."  
  
Faced with the prospect of more people knowing where and who he was, and uncertain of where he _actually_ was, Steve caught Howard's arm in a vice-like grip.  
  
"Howard, _what happened._ " This time, it wasn't a question but a command. Steve was aware that his grip on Howard was likely to bruise, but he wanted answers. "And what was the last thing you promised me before my last mission?"

"You were cryogenically frozen in the ice. The serum kept you alive. An oil tanker found you four days ago and we revived you aboard the arctic-exploring ship which I own, before transferring you to my private plane, which we are on. And the last thing I promised before your mission was to take you and Peggy to Zurich for fondue once we won the war."

Steve released his grip on Howard, who rubbed at the red spot on his arm. "Sorry," Steve added ruefully. "I had to make sure it was you and not Hydra."  
  
Howard nodded knowingly. "Let me get the nurses."

 

An hour later, Steve was pronounced fit as a fiddle with no lasting damage from the, apparently, nearly three years that he had been frozen in the ice.

Howard had told him when and how they'd won the war, about the atomic bombs and the Japanese surrender, the formation of East and West Germany, and the rise of the Soviet Union as a growing force in Eastern Europe. It was important information, but Steve had other things on his mind.

"What about the guys? The rest of the Commandos. Did they—"  
  
"They all made it through, Steve. Not a scratch on them."  
  
"And Peggy?"

"Yeah, she's alive, still working for the SSR. Living in New York, in fact. Care to give her a call?"  
  
Steve's eyes lit up. "You can do that on the plane?"  
  
"Well, no. Not yet, anyway; I'm still working on it," Howard sighed. "But we'll be landing in New York in less than an hour."

————————————*————————————

The cold winter wind hit Peggy full force as she emerged from the subway, wrapped up in layers for her short commute to work. Walking briskly, she noted that many shopkeepers had decked out their window fronts for the December holidays which were just three weeks away.

Inside the SSR, however, work rolled on. With Chief Dooley gone and Jack in his place, he wasn't about to go easy on the agents, handing out another batch of assignments that Monday morning. Jack's buddies, Peggy noted, were given the choice assignments of hunting down important artifacts or suspects, and even Agent Sousa was given a rather high-profile case involving the death of a West German diplomat in New York. Meanwhile, Peggy was stuck with grunt work.

"A Scandinavian businessman who recently invested in a new business venture? Really, Agent Thompson? Are you sure this riveting activity is worthy of the S.S.R.'s time and energy?" she asked as dryly as she could.  
  
"It's _Chief_ Thompson, Carter." Jack rolled his eyes and Peggy was pleased that she had annoyed him so. "And don't look at me. This comes from HQ. If they want him investigated, he'll be investigated. Just do your job, Agent."

Peggy gave the back of his head one last glare before accepting her fate—this time, anyway. She settled into her chair and began reading over the intelligence notes in the case file.

Several hours later, she was in the middle of learning that one Gunnar Mathisen, who had a history of investing in hydroelectric projects in Norway, had acquired a similar newly built facility in the Catskills, when the telephone rang.  
  
"Agent Carter, S.S.R."  
  
"Peggy! Good to hear your voice!"  
  
"Howard. It's been a while. To what do I owe this call? You're not in trouble, are you? What am I saying, you're always in trouble."  
  
"Hey, I resent that! I am perfectly fine, thank you. You'll never guess who I have with me."  
  
"Mr. Jarvis?" Peggy fired back, wondering where this was going.  
  
"Jarvis? No, he's bringing around the car. Peggy, I found him! I found Steve and he's alive! Peggy? Peggy? Oh, forget it, here he is—"

"Oh! Uh, Peggy? Hi. It's me, Steve. Peggy? Peggy?"

Peggy slammed the telephone down onto the receiver, glaring at it like it had personally affronted her. Peggy's heart beat madly and her breath came quickly as her mind raced, not knowing how to process what had transpired.  
  
Had Howard lied to her? She concluded he would not. (Not over _this_.) Had her ears deceived her? She concluded they had not. (Not when she knew his voice _so well_.) How was Steve alive? And now that he was alive, what was she supposed to do?

If they had found Captain America before the war ended, Peggy would have taken him back in a heartbeat. If they had found him at any time in 1945, Peggy would have taken him back. Hell, if they had found Steve any time last year in 1946, Peggy would have taken him back. But now? Now she was _angry_.

She'd cried her heart out, sobbed into Steve's picture while she broke her own heart over again, and eventually she'd poured out the last of Steve and packed him away. She'd gone on _dates_ —multiple dates!—in the last six months and felt like finally, finally, she might be able to move forward with her life.

It wasn’t exactly analogous, but in a way, she felt that Steve’s death had been like a break-up. It was a finality to their relationship, with Steve her “ex.” And now he wanted to waltz back in to her life like nothing had happened?

 _No_. Absolutely not. She wasn't going to open herself up to that kind of heartbreak again. He didn't get to do that to her. Not when she'd gone through her own personal hell to get to the safe, stable place she that she was finally in. He didn't get to do that at all.  
  
"Agent Carter? Peggy? Peggy?" She realized that her name was being called and she looked over to find that it was Daniel. "You going to answer that?" He gestured to the telephone that had begun to ring again.  
  
She yanked the cord out, scowling at it as though it had personally affronted her. _There_. That'll stop this nonsense, she told herself, willing it to be true.

 

Peggy powered through the remainder of the day, burying herself in her dry casework. Anything to forget the morning's conversation. On the plus side, she had a few leads on where to investigate next. On the negative side, the phone call from Howard was still real. This was not a dream.

As soon as the minute hand turned to five o'clock, Peggy stopped working, closed up her files, and hurried to the automat where Angie was working late. Just after she walked in, Peggy noticed that Jarvis was waiting for her at their usual table. She should have known Howard would send him.

" _Bloody hell_ ," she muttered to herself, but resolved to get this over with as quickly as possible, marching over to her table.

"Hello, Miss Carter."

"Hello, Mr. Jarvis."

"You must know why I'm here."

"I think I rather do, but I'll allow you to explain."

"It was not Howard's intention to keep you in the dark when he left to confirm the discovery of Captain Rogers' plane four days ago. However, he thought it best not to get your hopes up at the time, considering that he was unsure if he could successfully revive the Captain. Obviously he has, though he wonders if perhaps the suddenness caught you off guard."  
  
Peggy almost laughed. "It isn't that."  
  
Jarvis tried again, more hesitantly this time. "Very well. I have been sent to inform you that Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers request the pleasure of your company at Mr. Stark's residence this evening, or any night this week of your convenience. I believe Captain Rogers is most eager to see you."

"While I appreciate the sentiment, I must decline. I've worked too hard to make it this far and I can't go back, Mr. Jarvis. I won't—" she swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I just can’t—I just can't see him again."

"Which one, Mr. Stark or Captain Rogers?"

"Both! Now, good night, Mr. Jarvis," she concluded with a tone of finality in her voice.

Jarvis sighed, though he rose from the table at her words. "Good night, Miss Carter."

Just after he left, Angie finished up with a customer and headed over to Peggy's table. "English!" she said brightly, but then noticed Peggy's pained expression. "You don't look so good. Want me to get you a slice of rhubarb pie? Tommy's the cook on duty tonight and the one that came out is real good."

Peggy smiled, grateful for her friend's perceptive nature. "Thanks, that would be lovely."

Angie went to put the order in and, seeing no other customers, dashed right back to Peggy's table. "Now tell me what's eatin' at ya, English. You look like you've met a ghost!"

Peggy gave her a small smile, though she wasn’t ready yet to tell Angie the story. "Yes, I think I rather have."

————————————*————————————

Howard thrust the phone at Steve who, startled, grabbed hold of it.

"Oh! Uh, Peggy? Hi. It's me, Steve. Peggy? Peggy?"

_Slam!_

The cacophony that followed made it clear that Steve had been hung up on.

"What'd she say?" Howard asked.

"Nothing. She... hung up on me," Steve replied, confused and sorely disappointed. He had thought that Peggy would have _wanted_ to hear from him. Was there something going on? Had she changed her mind?

"Ah, well, maybe she's just mad that I didn't tell her earlier about finding you," Howard tried to tell Steve, but even he looked unsure. "Oh look! There's Jarvis with the car. Come on. We'll get you settled at my house and then we can ask Jarvis to find out what's going on with Peggy."

Steve had known Howard was a millionaire but could never have imagined the extravagance that met him when they pulled up to Howard's "house," which was more like a mansion than anything else. Nevertheless, he was grateful that Howard had offered him a place to stay for as long as he needed until he could get back on his feet.

It wasn't until Mr. Jarvis showed Steve to one of Howard's many guest rooms that it hit Steve that he didn't have anything left. No papers, no clothes, and no money to buy any.

"Ah... Mr. Stark took the liberty of securing your personal effects that were stored at the military base, and those that were stored with the Barnes family." Mr. Jarvis gestured to the trunk at the base of the four-poster bed.

The word _Barnes_ struck Steve right in the gut—he wondered if it ever wouldn't—but he swallowed down his sorrow and nodded solemnly to acknowledge Mr. Jarvis. "Thank you."

Mr. Jarvis added, "If you like, I can extend an invitation for a visit to Miss Carter. I could... help explain the situation to her."

Steve looked up and couldn't hide the hopeful expression on his face. "Would you?"

"Of course."

“Thank you, Mr. Jarvis. I—thank you."

 

When Jarvis returned later that evening with a negative response, Steve felt more confused and at a loss than ever. Everything had seemed so simple. Find Peggy, and he figured all the rest would follow. Now, he didn't know _what_ to do.

Howard couldn't fix his personal life, but he did know how to navigate the bureaucracy that Steve had to go through, now that he was very much _not dead_. He even took the week off from... well, whatever it is that Howard did with his time, to get Steve settled.

He explained that the SSR had a handful of units around the globe, with its headquarters based in DC and a branch in New York. Normally, the local office would be handling his discharge papers, but because of Steve's unique circumstances, they'd have to go headquarters in DC to have it done.

They took Howard's plane to the capital and Steve remarked that this was the first time he had been. Naturally, it meant that Howard made sure that Steve had a personal tour of the Capitol building from some Senator and his staff aide, and left plenty of time to see the Smithsonian castle and the Freer Gallery of Art. These excursions, of course, were scheduled in between the lengthy, week-long bureaucratic process that it took to first re-instate him as “active military duty” instead of “killed in action,” and then to discharge him from the military.

Steve admitted that he hadn't helped the process, either, refusing to give the SSR a sample of his blood while they, in turn, refused to discharge him. Howard had told him how badly the battle for his last vial of blood had gone awry the year before, and Steve wasn't about to let it happen again. It took a few days to smooth it out and Howard had certainly pulled a few strings, but Steve was allowed to go free, unmolested by SSR scientists.

They _had_ , however, suggested that Steve might consider a career as an agent, possibly even with the New York unit if he wanted to stay close to home. Steve didn't mind the idea but he wanted to know more before committing himself fully. They had thrust several pamphlets into his hands and promised to arrange a meeting with the head of the New York branch, and a few field assignments for him to try.

Throughout the week, though, he found his mind wandering back to Peggy, wondering if there was anything that he could do to prove himself and convince her to give him a second chance. Peggy had told Mr. Jarvis that she "couldn't" go back and that she just "couldn't" see him again. What did that mean? Had she changed her mind about her feelings for him? Had it just been the war that made Peggy feel like there was something between them? Had he ever _really_ had a chance with her? After all, Peggy could have had any man she wanted. Why would she want to settle for "Steve from Brooklyn?" Then again, he really felt that there _had_ been something between them during the war so why...?

He went back and forth with himself. By the time he and Howard returned to New York, Steve knew what his next step was.

 

After asking Mr. Jarvis for a recommendation for a good florist, Steve found himself standing in front of the Griffith Hotel early in the morning, holding a potted plant with brilliant red and pink blooms that the florist had assured him were hardy. For the umpteenth time, Steve checked that the card he had written was carefully tucked into the plant where anyone might notice. Taking a deep breath, he climbed the steps to the front door and made his way inside.

"May I help you?" a shrill voice asked in his direction. Steve noticed a woman waiting at a front desk and headed over.

"Hi. Uh, I wanted to give these to Miss Peggy Carter."

The woman behind the desk looked him up and down and Steve was very aware that he was being judged. For what qualities, he did not know. Luckily, he seemed to have passed her test, for she finally looked up again and pronounced, "Men are _not_ allowed past the first floor and Miss Carter left for the day a short while ago. _However_ , I will ensure that she receives your delivery, this time. Now run along!"

Steve breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, ma’am," he said before turning to leave.

He headed toward the subway but was surprised to see Mr. Jarvis waiting for him in the driver's seat of one of Howard's cars. "I've been sent to retrieve you, Captain Rogers. The SSR called. They're ready for you to stop by today."

————————————*————————————

When Peggy arrived in the office, Jack was in a particularly supercilious mood that morning—which was saying something because Jack's grandstanding was par for the course even on a good day. Fortunately or unfortunately, Peggy didn't have to wait long to find out why.

Standing at the head of the bullpen, Jack called out, "Hey! Listen up, fellas! You too, Agent Carter!" Soon, the men quieted. "We've got a special visitor coming to the office today. This," he held up a telegram in his hand, "is a letter from HQ describing the return... of Captain America!"

The room broke out into a buzz, the men skeptical but excited. Peggy, on the other hand, felt like her insides had turned to ice. She didn't _want_ to see Steve—things would be so much easier if she didn't have to. A growing dread crept up inside of her, knowing what the day would bring.

Meanwhile, one of the men called out, "Didn't he die in a plane crash? How could he be alive?"

"Captain America," Jack explained, "is an enhanced soldier, capable of surviving extreme temperatures, such as the arctic sea where he and the plane were found. Now, this is real hush-hush! HQ doesn't want it getting out that Captain America is alive. So keep it to yourself or I'll have your hide, ya hear? And for goodness sakes, make the man feel welcome, eh? He might even decide to work for this office."

Peggy could practically hear the thoughts that were running through Jack Thompson's mind and privately, she gagged at the idea. Daniel caught her eye and they exchanged skeptical looks. It seemed he had the same thoughts as she.

Rose came in with a message for Jack and before Peggy knew it, Steve was walking through the office door, herded along by Thompson, who had clapped his arm on Steve's shoulder. She could hardly believe it was happening.

"Lady and gentleman, I give you... Captain America!"

The room erupted into cheers and clapping, which Peggy did not join in on. For his part, Steve looked rather abashed to be receiving this much attention. Peggy had forgotten that particular expression of his. No matter how many times the propaganda cameras had trumpeted his name, and no matter how many times he received genuine cheers from men in the field that he had helped, Steve never grew to be entitled because of his fame. If anything, it made him more determined to prove he was just "one of the guys."

Sure enough, that morning as Steve made the rounds he stopped to shake hands and talk to each agent, genuinely listening to what they had to say. Even as Peggy put her head down and concentrated as hard as she could, she couldn't help but catch snippets here and there, with Steve downplaying any of his achievements that an agent brought up.

By the time Jack brought Steve 'round to meet Sousa—who looked rather constipated and stumbled through an awkward conversation with Steve—Peggy knew that she was likely next. She had no intention of taking part in what would likely be a similarly painful conversation, nor giving Jack the satisfaction of witnessing it. Luckily, she was able to place an important phone call and make enough progress in her case that by the time Jack wrapped up the conversation with Sousa, Peggy had packed up her files and was ready to pay a visit to the Norwegian in the case file.

"And this is Agent Carter. Oh, but you already know her, I guess."

Peggy heard the fake sincerity in Jack's voice and she wondered if Steve did, too. He probably did. Steve was always quick to get the measure of a man and from the look on his face, he already had a good idea of what Jack was like.

"Agent Carter," Steve addressed her respectfully, his gaze more intense than she remembered.

"Captain Rogers," she returned, cool as ice.

"It's not 'captain,' anymore. Officially, I'm discharged from the military."

Unconsciously, Peggy raised an eyebrow. "What with your iconic status, I doubt the public will ever let you live it down." Oh _damn it!_ Peggy had sworn to herself that she wouldn't get drawn into a conversation with him. Quickly, she added, "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I have a lead to chase down."

"On the case I gave you?" Even Jack looked surprised that she'd found something in the dry, practically clean file handed to them from HQ.

"Absolutely," Peggy insisted, although it was more of a hunch. "I'll be paying Mr. Mathisen a visit myself."

"Can I help?" Steve perked up, eager for a chance to catch Peggy alone, no doubt.

"I'm afraid this work requires a light touch, _Captain_. It's not a situation where you can punch your way out." She made sure her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Good _day_ , gentlemen," she concluded before spinning on her heel and stalking out of the room. Distantly, she could hear Jack assuring Steve that he wouldn't want Peggy's boring grunt work anyway, and that if he worked for the New York office, Jack would give him all the prime cases instead.

Outside the SSR building, Jarvis was waiting for Peggy in the driver's seat of Howard's car. "To where are we going, Miss Carter?"

"We are going to visit the mark in a case that I am working on and I need you to provide a distraction while I snoop around his house. What do you think?"

"Sounds rather exciting. Have you the address?"

"Yes, head for the Upper East Side."

 

Half an hour later, they walked up to a rather gorgeous brownstone apartment and rang the doorbell.

The man who answered was equally handsome. His sandy blond hair was streaked with a tinge of distinguishing gray and his impeccably groomed goatee matched his impeccably tailored suit.

“Mr. Mathisen, a pleasure to meet you,” said Peggy in an American accent as they all shook hands. “I’m Mary Robinson from the New York Examiner and this is my assistant, Mr. Edgar Jones.”

“Ah yes, that’s right. I received your phone call this morning. I’ve been expecting you. Please, come in.” Mathisen showed them to his study, which was paneled with dark wood, ornately decorated, and large enough to fit a settee, chair and coffee table. “Would you like some tea?” he asked in his light accent, gesturing for Peggy and Jarvis to have a seat. Mathisen poured the tea for them in the usual pleasantry ritual, and then it was Peggy who began the conversation.

“So, Mr. Mathisen—”

“Please, call me Gunnar.”

“Of course. So, Gunnar, as I mentioned over the telephone, we’re writing the science beat for the paper. We thought we would start with where New York City gets its electricity from and here we are! Tell us more about your hydroelectric plant.”

Mathisen went on to explain the power output, the demand for the plant’s electricity, and a basic explanation of how hydroelectricity worked. Peggy and Jarvis pretended to take studious notes.

“We’re also hoping to bring a human angle to all this science,” said Peggy, with false cheer. “Can you tell me, what got you interested in the energy business?”

“Well, before coming to America, I invested in hydroelectric energy in my home country, Norway, so it seemed natural to continue the business in my new home country,” he said, innocently enough. “In Norway, we have these steep waterfalls. We built dams to harness the power of the water and turn it into energy. Nature provides all the energy you could ever want. It’s the job of science to turn the raw fuel of the Earth, even something as basic as water, and turn it into pure power.”

“Indeed,” said Jarvis. “And what made you decide to come to America? I, myself, am an immigrant and I am rather interested to hear the stories of other transplants.”

“This is the land of opportunity, is it not? Europe is war-torn, even my country. America is growing by leaps and bounds. Here is a country worth investing power—hydroelectric power—into.”

“Yet you have quite a collection of items that must remind you of home,” Peggy said, switching topics on purpose. She wanted to ask about a German record and album cover hanging on the wall. She gestured to it and feigned ignorance. “Are you a great fan of Norwegian music?”

“Oh, that old thing! No, that is Zarah Leander. She is from Sweden. Quite popular and a good singer, too. I met her once. There’s a picture of her on my desk.”

Peggy had noticed the photo on the way in but didn’t recognize the face. She did, however, recognize the name. It was the first red flag in the conversation and now she wanted a chance to snoop. She looked over at Jarvis meaningfully. He promptly spilled tea all over himself and was quick to take up Mathisen’s offer to show him the washroom. With the two men out of the room, she stalked over to his desk, looking for any folders that might give her another lead in this investigation where she was grasping at straws.

She rummaged through his desk drawers, and then found that the bottom drawer was locked. She picked it in record time but found that it was nearly empty save for a few rulers, pens, and assorted office supplies. Frowning, she tried one more trick, looking for a groove in the seam. _Aha!_ A false bottom. Removing the plank, she found two thin folders waiting for her. Using the buttonhole camera she had come with, she took pictures of each file, her ear trained for the approaching footsteps of Mathisen and Jarvis. Luckily, she was able to capture copies of each file and replace the contents.

Jarvis must have been laying it on thick because Peggy had time to spare. She used it to get a good look at the photo of Leander on the desk and noticed that it was autographed by the woman herself. Hoping for more clues, she removed the photo from its frame and turned it over. Sure enough, there was an inscription on the back.

 _um Gunnar,_  
_In deinen Worten, “Ich weiss, es wird einmal ein Wunder geschehen.”_  
_Zarah Leander_

Bloody hell. Peggy snapped a photo and hurriedly replaced the autographed picture, just as Mathisen and Jarvis returned. Mathisen noticed the picture in her hand and Peggy remarked that she would have to listen to Miss Leander one day, as she was not familiar with her works—a bald-faced lie, indeed.

Peggy and Jarvis asked a few easy questions and managed to close out the interview fifteen minutes later, thanking Mathisen for his time and promising to be in touch. The minute they returned to the car, Jarvis sniffed, “I hope that was worth it, Miss Carter. My shirt is thoroughly stained and I’ll be lucky if I can get it out. What did you find?”

“He’s hiding something, alright. I’ve got enough copies of his files to last me through this week and maybe next. And on top of it, he’s a bloody Nazi!”

“What do you mean? Was that what the Swedish singer was about?”

“Yes. I didn’t recognize her face but I certainly know the name. Zarah Leander had a war-time contract with a German record label. She sang and acted in the Reich’s most famous propaganda film—and he has an inscription from it on the back of the photo.”

“Bloody hell.”

Indeed, Peggy thought. Indeed.

 

Jarvis helpfully drove Peggy back to the office—where she thankfully did not run into Steve—so that she could drop of the film to be developed. He then drove her to the Griffith Hotel and bade her goodbye. No doubt they would be in touch soon.

With Nazis on her mind and theories about what Gunnar could be up to, Peggy was hardly expecting what happened next when she stepped into the lobby.

“ _Miss Carter. Miss Carter! MISS CARTER!_ ”

Mrs. Fry called out her name in a shrill voice, abruptly interrupting her thoughts about work. Peggy approached the front desk, wondering if she had done something lately to upset Mrs. Fry. That was not the case, however, as Miriam explained.

“A gentleman left these for you this morning,” she said with a thin smile. She pushed a potted plant with beautiful red blossoms in Peggy’s direction. A card, nestled into the plant, had her name on it. Peggy astutely recognised the handwriting as Steve’s and promptly glowered.

“Thank you, Mrs. Fry, but I am not interested in receiving them.”

If anything, Miriam Fry’s returning glower was worse than hers. “While I certainly do not advocate for _improper_ fraternization between a young woman and a young man, a _lady_ would never be so rude as to refuse a gift to her. If you wish to ward off the young man in question, you may call on me for assistance—after all, the Griffith Hotel is here to defend a woman’s virtue—but there is no sense in wasting a perfectly good plant. You _will_ take this with you, Miss Carter.”

Peggy glared violently at the plant but in the end, snatched it up and marched off with it to her room. She dumped it on to her dressing table and yanked out the card, all the while wondering what Steve could have written to her.

_Peggy,_

_I’m sorry that I had to crash the plane. I wish there had been another way. We can still have our dance at the Stork Club, if you’re up for it. Give me another chance?_

_Steve_

Anger welled up inside Peggy. Even if a small part of her knew it wasn’t Steve’s fault, she pushed it aside, too afraid of where going down that road might lead. Right now, she was safe. She didn’t have to think about a future with Steve. She didn’t have to think about a future with losing Steve a second time. She’d lost him, she’d mourned him, and she wasn’t sure that she could do it again. No, it was much easier to be angry at him for waltzing back into her life like it was nothing. Ooh, the gall of him!

Peggy stood up, the chair scraping against the floor. She grabbed the potted plant with both hands and quickly put it in the wastepaper basket, vowing to take it out in the morning. She glared at it anyway as it sat in the bin, her mind returning to Steve again and again. She needed to get her mind off the subject. Finally, Peggy decided to pay Angie a visit down the hall. She knew that for the whole month, Angie was preparing for her upcoming, off-Broadway Christmas play and Peggy was happy to help her rehearse.

 

The following day, Peggy learned the hard way that ignoring Steve was not going to work. Incredibly, Steve was in the office when she arrived, talking seriously with Jack in his office. Then Steve disappeared for a few hours in the morning, only to return to just before lunchtime. It was his arrival that prompted Jack to approach Peggy’s desk.

He informed her, “Captain Rogers would like a word with you in the conference room, Agent Carter.”

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m rather busy at the moment. Captain Rogers can stuff it.”

“ _Agent Carter_. Captain Rogers is this close to agreeing to become an agent, possibly even an agent of this division. Would you like to explain to headquarters how he walked away from our offer because _you_ wouldn’t speak to him for three minutes in the conference room?”

Peggy leveled him with an annoyed look and she could tell that he was struggling not to back down. Figuring that was good enough to count as a win, she finally replied, “Three minutes. And I’m counting.”

Steve was waiting for her in the conference room, pacing back and forth. Sweaty palms and startled expression, he looked as nervous as a rabbit that had spotted a fox. He practically gulped when she closed the door.

“Peggy! I mean, Agent Carter. Did you, uh, did you get my delivery yesterday?” His hesitant words and his half-hopeful expression reminded her of the man she had met at boot camp—underprepared, but determined to do his best.

“I did.”

“Did you read the card? What—what did you think?”

Peggy sighed. Truly, she had wanted to come in here in righteous anger, to shout at Steve and berate him for what he’d done to her, but looking at him so innocent like this, he didn’t even have a _clue_ what she’d been through these past few years. Well, maybe she’d give him a clue.

“For the past three years, Steve, I’ve had to endure and overcome the pain of losing you. Did you know we held a service for you in London, just after the plane crash? In the space of three days, we lost Bucky, you, _and_ Howard, as he was re-tasked to the Manhattan Project following your death. I’ve had to tolerate the absolute _chauvinists_ at this institution who can’t and won’t see me as anything other than _Captain America’s girlfriend_ , and I’ve had to listen to that infernal radio program about Captain America always saving that Betty Carver. You don’t know what that was like—” She felt herself getting carried away with her emotions and took a deep breath.

“You don’t know what it was like to constantly be reminded of your death while I was still processing it. You don’t know how I felt or what I went through. I mourned you, Steve, for a long time. But I packed you away and I’ve finally moved on. Losing you once was enough and I... I don’t know what you want me to say, but I don’t think I can do this again. Please, please don’t make me.”

Steve’s face fell, resembling nothing less than the saddest puppy she’d ever seen. She wished she could make it go away and at the same time she hated herself for caring about him so much, even now. She warred between throwing all caution to the wind and keeping the carefully built wall in place around her heart, but the latter won out as she fought back the prickliness at the edge of her eyes.

“I understand. I’m sorry, Peggy. I never meant to hurt you. This, this is hard for me, too. I can’t put you outta my mind, Pegg. Please, tell me you don’t feel the same way. Tell me you don’t feel the same way about me as I feel about you and I’ll stop. I won’t bother you anymore.”

“I…” It would be so easy to lie, to say just a few words and have him out of her life forever, but try as she might, she couldn’t. The words stuck in her throat, her silence betraying the secrets she kept, even from herself. She grew angry again. Angry at Steve or herself, she didn’t know, but she couldn’t be in the same room as him any longer. “You need to leave,” she said, hardening her voice. She opened the door to let him out. “Good day, Captain Rogers.”

“Same to you, Agent Carter,” he replied softly before making his exit.

Peggy was aware of Thompson hovering in the doorway of his office. “ _Well?_ ” he mouthed.

She rolled her eyes. Of course, all he cared about was getting Captain America to join his team. “I’m going out to lunch,” she told him instead, grabbing her coat and making a break for it.

She used her lunch hour to compose herself and when she returned to work, discovered that her photos from the visit with Mathisen were fully developed and ready for analysis. This kept her occupied for the remainder of the day and kept her thoughts off of Steve. She even worked later than usual, caught up in the thrill of important casework.

Peggy was exhausted when she returned to the Griffith that evening. As soon as she got to her room, she plopped down in the chair at her dressing table, enjoying a moment’s rest. She eyed the wastepaper basket and noticed that the potted plant was still there, as she had forgotten to take it out in the morning.

She wanted to be gone of Steve, but, she figured, that was no reason to take it out on the blossoming plant. Carefully, she lifted it out of the bin. Dusting it off, she placed it on the corner of her dressing table and smoothed down the petals that had gone askew.

————————————*————————————

Steve’s visit to the New York SSR office did not go exactly as he had imagined it would. His first mistake was expecting the chief to be a no-nonsense practical strategist, much like Colonel Phillips. Instead, he was greeted by Jack Thompson, a young man who had been promoted after the death of the last chief in the line of duty. Jack was the same bullying-type that Steve had endured growing up, rolled up into an authority figure, a bad combination in Steve’s book. He felt Jack’s slickness ooze out of him every time he spoke, and every time he put an arm around Steve to show him around the office.

And that was another thing. In his mind, Steve figured he would meet the chief, be given a brief on how operations worked, and maybe even be allowed to tag along on a field mission. Quiet, under the radar, straightforward. Jack, however, was pleased to parade _Captain America_ around the office like a life-sized action figure, which took up a several hours all on its own. Steve was lucky that he managed to tag along on a short investigative assignment at all. Even then, he felt that he didn’t get a good sense of how the agents operated, given that they kept deferring to “Captain America” for his expertise. They seemed to do a lot of investigative work and he was always more of a “punch your way through things” kind of guy. Steve would have rather learned from them, truth be told.

Of course, the biggest disaster in visiting the SSR was not meeting Jack Thompson or being put on display in front of the agents, but fumbling his way through interacting with Peggy.

On his first day, he was crushed that she had no intention of speaking to him or acknowledging him at all. At the end of the day, he left dejected, only stopping at an automat for a hot meal before plodding his way back to Howard’s mansion. Steve tossed and turned all night. To him, it seemed like an about-face for Peggy. What had changed so much for her in the past three years that she wouldn’t even have a conversation with him? Really, all he wanted was a clear answer.

The next day, he felt very guilty for what he was about to do, but could think of no other way to finally get an answer from Peggy once and for all. He stopped by the SSR office again and may have strongly hinted to Jack that he was interested in a career as an agent. As he expected, Jack practically salivated at the idea, which was when Steve also mentioned that he’d want to get to know _all_ the agents in the office and that he’d spoken to each one—except Agent Carter. It wasn’t hard to get three minutes with Peggy in the conference room.

While he waited for her, Steve paced back and forth, becoming more nervous by the minute. He watched as Jack spoke to Peggy, who looked supremely unimpressed with her boss. Steve couldn’t help but smile as she held her own against him, even though he was technically her superior. He fondly recalled her swift discipline of the recruits at boot camp if they dared talk out of line because she was a woman. Oh what she could have done if she was in charge of Thompson!

Soon enough, Peggy rose from her desk and Steve tried to gather his wits before she came in. He wasn’t sure he succeeded much, because he froze like a deer in the headlights the minute Peggy closed the door behind her. He thought he succeeded in not staring at her, but he had forgotten how beautiful and formidable she could look all at once, and he loved that about her.

“Peggy! I mean, Agent Carter. Did you, uh, did you get my delivery yesterday?” Not what he had planned to open with, but seeing Peggy had a way of making him lose his composure.

“I did.”

“Did you read the card? What—what did you think?” Steve watched Peggy closely. Was she annoyed? Exasperated? Angry? He waited in silence for her reply.

Finally, she said, “For the past three years, Steve, I’ve had to endure and overcome the pain of losing you. Did you know we held a service for you in London, just after the plane crash? In the space of three days, we lost Bucky, you, _and_ Howard, as he was re-tasked to the Manhattan Project following your death. I’ve had to tolerate the absolute _chauvinists_ at this institution who can’t and won’t see me as anything other than _Captain America’s girlfriend_ , and I’ve had to listen to that infernal radio program about Captain America always saving that Betty Carver. You don’t know what that was like—”

“You don’t know what it was like to constantly be reminded of your death while I was still processing it. You don’t know how I felt or what I went through. I mourned you, Steve, for a long time. But I packed you away and I’ve finally moved on. Losing you once was enough and I... I don’t know what you want me to say, but I don’t think I can do this again. Please, please don’t make me.”

The more she went on, the worse Steve felt. He had _never_ meant to do that to her. It had been hard enough to say goodbye to Peggy once before crashing the plane. He had thought about himself, about how this was his second chance but he hadn’t thought about how it might have affected Peggy in these three years. The more Peggy said, however, the more confused Steve became. Her words told him one thing, but her reaction and the quiver in her tone said another. If Steve was going to move on like Peggy had, he needed to hear it from her. He needed to hear, once and for all, that she had no interest in him and she never would.

“I understand. I’m sorry, Peggy. I never meant to hurt you. This, this is hard for me, too. I can’t put you outta my mind, Pegg. Please, tell me you don’t feel the same way. Tell me you don’t feel the same way about me as I feel about you and I’ll stop. I won’t bother you anymore.”

“I…” Peggy stopped short of those words. Those words he both dreaded and knew would settle this once and for all. Steve watched her face transform; he could almost see it as she closed herself off to him and made her feelings an impenetrable fortress to him. “You need to leave,” she said forcefully, opening the door to let him pass. “Good day, Captain Rogers.”

Disappointed, Steve hung his head. “Same to you, Agent Carter,” he replied softly. Jack was clearly waiting to talk to him in his office, but Steve gave him no more than a cursory nod before exiting the building.

 

His head spinning, Steve let his feet take him to the subway, and let the 14th Street Canarsie Line take him back to Brooklyn. As he rode the subway, he replayed the conversation in his mind, wishing he had said something more. The worse part, Steve figured, was that he was still stuck in a kind of limbo, unable to go back to where he had been with Peggy or move forward without her. The fact that she couldn’t or wouldn’t say that she didn’t care for him kept this stubborn hope alive in him that maybe one day, she’d re-consider. It was a silly thing to hope for; he knew he couldn’t hinge his whole life on that. Not that he had much of a life right now at all. He had no job and no family to come back to in New York. Steve was doing his best not to pity himself, and to get out in the world, but there were also times like now when it became too much for him.

He paused at the rusty cemetery gate, his mind mapping out the route to empty grave marker inside the cemetery that the Barnes family had installed for Bucky, thinking that he hadn’t even visited the Barnes family since he got back. What did you say to the family of your best friend whom you got killed? Not much. Truly, it felt pointless.

Steve kept walking until his feet found their old apartment building, the one they had shared after Bucky had wanted to move out of his folks’ home. Trying not to make much noise, Steve climbed the fire escape six floors to the top and gracefully swung himself onto the roof. The old, rusty folding chairs that the caretaker always left out were still up there, leaned over, so Steve set them out—one for him, and one for Bucky.

It was freezing outside but if he looked over, he could imagine the hot summer days they had spent up here listening to Fibber McGee and Molly. Bucky leaning back in his chair, throwing a baseball up and catching it as it fell, while Steve experimented with his pastels or sketched another scene.

If Bucky were here, he’d know what to do. He’d know what to say, how to get Steve to move on, to pick up and keep on living.  He’d know what Steve was supposed to do with his life. He’d certainly know what to do about Peggy.

Steve had never been very good with women. Even during the war, it was Bucky who had given him the good advice for how to approach Peggy (and how not to approach her, come to think of it). If Bucky were here, he’d probably laugh his head off at Steve, get him out of his overdramatic rut, and send him back to Peggy with some magic advice that Steve was unsure about but that would miraculously end up working. Instead, Steve was up here, looking over at that empty seat, feeling more lost than ever.

He sat up there for a long time, until even with his super-soldier metabolism that kept him running hotter than most, he felt the chill. Reluctantly, he climbed down, trudged his way back to the subway, and took it back to Manhattan. Steve was famished by then, so he ducked into the automat that he’d visited the day before, figuring it would be quiet now that the lunch crowd had left. Sure enough, the place was nearly empty inside save for an old man finishing a crossword puzzle at the corner table. Steve took a seat at the counter and waited for the server, passing the time by sketching on a napkin.

“Hey there, big guy. What can I getcha?” Steve looked up to see the same waitress who had taken his order yesterday. She noticed it, too, because she asked, “Weren’t you here just yesterday? Am I picking up a new regular?”

“Uh, yeah. Well, this place has the best all-day breakfast in Manhattan. Can’t say no to that.”

“And here I thought you were coming for the service.” She winked at him playfully. Steve, flustered, couldn’t think of anything to say that wasn’t untrue, but it didn’t matter because she had already left to put in his order.

An hour later found Steve with an empty plate, having devoured his eggs, bacon, and toasted bagel in silence when the waitress returned with it. He was now sipping at his coffee as he continued to draw on the back of a napkin. Steve was killing time, trying not to think about Peggy or the SSR by concentrating on his artwork instead. By now, the place was thoroughly dead and the waitress must have been bored.

“That’s a real nice drawing ya got there. Are you an artist of some kind?” she asked when she stopped to refill his coffee.

Steve looked up and gave her a small smile. “Dunno if I’d go that far. Went to art school for a year before the war. And then…”

She nodded, understanding. “And now? You gonna go back?”

Steve shrugged.

“You’ve got the G.I. bill! It would be a shame to waste talent like that, I say.”

“You’re too kind.”

“So who’s the girl?” she nodded to the picture. Blinking, Steve realized that, very unconsciously, he’d drawn Peggy in her combat uniform. He frowned.

“It’s complicated,” he sighed.

“Yeah?” She leaned over, resting her elbows on the counter. “Honey, I’ve heard all manner of ‘complicated’ situations working this job. Try me. At the very least, it’ll make you feel better.”

So Steve told her the story, leaving out the part about him being Captain America and recently unfrozen from the Arctic. He explained that he’d worked with this woman during the war and they seemed to be heading toward being more than friends. He alluded to the fact that he’d been away for three years due to unpreventable circumstances but now that the war was over and he had returned, things were so different and he was having a hard time with it.

The waitress listened with a sympathetic ear, saying the right thing in all the right places. She was easy to talk to and Steve did end up feeling a little better by the end.

“Sorry,” he said, chagrined. “Here I am, yappin’ away about myself, and I haven’t even asked about you.”

“Me?” she beamed, clearly pleased that he had asked. “Well, when I’m not working here, I’m an actress! Off-Broadway for now, but I’m workin’ my way up. Gonna make it big one day.”

“I hope you do. And I hope it works out for you. Show biz was never my thing.”

“You were in show biz?” Her eyes grew wide, possibly excited at the prospect of meeting another actor.

He shrugged. “For a while. I was with the USO before the Army assigned me to combat. Made a couple ‘a short films.” That, at least, was the truth.

“Oooh! Tell me more!”

Steve laughed. “Sure, but first I think I should introduce myself. I’m Steve.” He held out his hand.

She took it, giving it a firm shake. “I’m Angie. Angie Martinelli. Pleased to meet you, Steve.”

 

And that was how, two days later, Steve found himself at the automat well past midnight with no one around except Angie and the cook, roped into helping her rehearse for her big debut that was scheduled for just before Christmas. The lead actress was out of town and as the understudy, Angie was picking up her role. It was a musical adaptation of the Nutcracker sans the ballet and entirely with dialogue. “The Nutcracker Prince” followed the story of the ballet fairly closely, with the twist at the end being that even though Clara leaves the prince behind, she wakes up from her dream only to find that the man she dreamed of is really Uncle Drosselmeyer’s nephew.

“Clara?” Steve asked, pretending to be the Nutcracker Prince.

“Yes?” Angie replied, batting her eyelashes.

“Stay. Be my princess. And rule with me in the Land of the Dolls forever.”

“Oh, dear Nutcracker! This is like a wonderful dream come true. The Land of the Dolls is so beautiful and everyone is so kind. And to think that we can all be together, forever.”

“Then you’ll stay? ...Clara, what is it?” Steve moved closer, grasping Angie’s hands like she had instructed him to do after the last go-around that they rehearsed this part.

“Oh, I want to. I want to stay with you, I do! But… oh, I don’t know. I’m so confused! It’s just—”

“ _STEVE?!?_ ” That was most decidedly not Angie’s voice.  “What are you doing?!” They both looked up toward the sound of the shouting, only to find—

“English!” Angie exclaimed brightly. Then, looking between Steve and Peggy, she asked, confused, “You two know each other?”

“Indeed, we do, Angie.” Peggy set her hands on her hips and glowered at Steve. “ _Captain Rogers_.” Somehow, she made even his rank sound like an admonishment. “May I have a word with you? Privately.”

She ushered him away from Angie, who retreated to the kitchen at the same time.

“What are you doing here, Steve?” she asked angrily.

“We were rehearsing!” he said defensively. He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“As I recall, two days ago, we were having a very _different_ conversation and only 48 hours later, I find you holding hands with the best friend that I’ve made since the end of the war?”

“As I recall, _you_ were the one who asked me to leave you be, and I have. Instead, I’ve been coming here to eat and Angie asked if I wanted to help her rehearse for her big play. I can’t help it that I didn’t know she was your friend.”

Peggy calmed down at that, and she had the grace to look embarrassed. “Very well. I supposed I might have overreacted. Slightly.”

“You two done with your lovers spat?” Angie interrupted, returning from the kitchen.

“Oh no, I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong idea—”

“We’re not—”

“Well it sure sounded like it from in there,” Angie teased, giving Steve a wink. She mouthed to him, “ _Is this the girl?_ ”

Steve, not sure if Peggy had caught that, decided it was time for him to leave. “I’d better be heading out. Good luck with your musical, Angie. Good night, both of you.”

He beat a hasty retreat back to Howard’s mansion, more confused than ever.

————————————*————————————

When Peggy decided to stop by the automat after a late night at the office, she did not expect the sight that greeted her. _Steve_ , of all people, was at Angie’s automat (of all automats), standing awfully close to her and _holding her hand_. And this, after their conversation two days ago!

“STEVE?!?” she shouted, catching the attention of both Angie and Steve.

“English!” Angie exclaimed brightly. Then, looking between Steve and Peggy, she asked, confused, “You two know each other?”

“Indeed, we do, Angie.” Peggy set her hands on her hips and glowered at Steve. “ _Captain Rogers_. May I have a word with you? Privately.”

Angie was perceptive enough to leave them alone, retreating to the kitchen as Peggy and Steve stepped away from the countertop.

“What are you doing here, Steve?” she asked angrily.

“We were rehearsing!” he replied defensively, holding up hands in a gesture of surrender.

“As I recall, two days ago, we were having a very _different_ conversation and only 48 hours later, I find you holding hands with the best friend that I’ve made since the end of the war?”

“As I recall, _you_ were the one who asked me to leave you be, and I have. Instead, I’ve been coming here to eat and Angie asked if I wanted to help her rehearse for her big play. I can’t help it that I didn’t know she was your friend.”

Surprised at first by his reply, Peggy hated to admit it but Steve had a point. She _had_ overreacted, and rather badly at that. It was positively ridiculous, given the fact that she was over Steve to begin with. Somehow, the thought of Steve with anyone else—Angie or no—didn’t settle well with her. Embarrassed, she finally replied, “Very well. I supposed I might have overreacted. Slightly.”

“You two done with your lovers spat?” Angie interrupted, returning from the kitchen.

“Oh no, I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong idea—” Peggy began.

“We’re not—”

“Well it sure sounded like it from in there,” Angie teased.

Now it was Steve’s turn to be embarrassed. He hastily gathered his belongings. “I’d better be heading out. Good luck with your play, Angie. Good night, both of you.”

Angie waited until Steve left before turning to Peggy to explain, “Steve came in a few days ago with the saddest hangdog look on his face that I had to ask what was wrong. I’ve heard his side and I don’t wanna pressure you or anything, but what about yours?”

And so, Peggy ended up telling Angie her side of the story, hedging her bets on how much of the truth—the Captain America frozen in the ice truth—that Steve might have told her. She kept it vague, saying that she had worked closely with Steve in the war. She thought him dead at the end of a mission, and she’d spent a long time getting over him, only to find out that he hadn’t died but was very much still alive and had been prevented from returning until now.

“I don’t see the downside of this, Pegg. You and he have a second chance. Why aren’t ya taking it?”

“Because… because it hurt _so much_ the first time. What if I fall in love with him again and then lose him again? I don’t know if I can handle that a second time.”

Angie sighed. “Even if that did happen—and I’m not sayin’ it would—it would be different. The second time around, you would’ve been able to spend time with him. To love and to lose… that’s better than never getting a chance to love in the first place, right? Besides, if you’re worried about falling in love a second time and losing him again… I hate to break it to you, but you’ve already blown past the first part.”

Peggy stared at her in complete shock.

“Don’t look at me like that, English! Anyone can see it from a mile away. Your reaction when you saw him in here? That ain’t the work of a woman who doesn’t love him.”

“I’m sorry, Angie. I wasn’t upset with you. You should be free to make friends with whomever you like.”

“Nah, it’s good. He wasn’t very good at reading the lines, anyway.”

Peggy glanced at the clock just as it turned past the hour. “Are you off yet?”

Angie looked in her direction. “Sure am! Let me clock out and we can head home.”

They split the taxi fare back to the Griffith, all the while talking about Angie’s upcoming role in the musical. Peggy managed to keep the conversation light and focused on Angie. That is, until they reached their respective rooms on the third floor.

“Hey Peggy?”

“Yes, Angie?”

“We don’t get many second chances in life. I can tell you don’t believe me yet, but promise me you’ll think about what I said?”

“I will. I promise.”

They bade each other goodnight and stepped into their respective rooms. Peggy sat down in the chair by her dressing table to take off her shoes and her eyes wandered to the potted plant. To her surprise, not only were the blossoms still vibrant and open, the buds that had previously been closed were beginning to unfurl.

 

In the end, Peggy went to see Angie’s musical after work on the first night of her performance, just a few days before Christmas. So did Steve, in fact, though Peggy wasn’t sure Steve had seen her sitting a few rows back. She didn’t say anything to him; truthfully, she wasn’t sure if she _wanted_ to be seen.

During the day, Peggy tried to keep herself busy by powering through her assignment on Gunnar Mathisen, but she was stuck on an encoded message. A couple of days before Christmas, she finally broke the cipher. Or, at least she thought she had. The decoded message wasn’t in any language Peggy knew and she suspected it was in Norwegian. The translation crew was out for the next two weeks, so she’d have to wait until the new year to find out what it said and get her next lead on the case.

Frustrated, she put her pencil down and leaned back for a moment, rubbing her eyes. It was only then that she realized how late the hour was. Looking over, she was surprised to find that Daniel was still working as well. “Hard at work on the night before Christmas Eve? What gives, Agent Sousa?”

“Ah, I guess you’re right.” He dropped his pen and swiveled his chair around to face her. “It’s just that this case is so unusual. A West German diplomat was assassinated in the late afternoon on Third Ave., but none of the witnesses recall seeing a shooter at all. The latest piece of intel I have is an encoded transmission, but the code-breaking team won’t be back until after New Year’s. Don’t know why I’m in the office.”

“It seems we’re a pair. I just decoded a message for my case, but it’s in Norwegian. I’ll have to wait as well.”

Daniel made a sympathetic noise. “I got a feeling mine is in Russian, and I haven’t even started in on decoding it. I figured I’d leave it to them.”

“Well,” she said, getting up to stand by his desk, “You’ll be pleased to know that I am not only excellent at decryption, I am quite proficient in Russian. Give it here?” Daniel passed over the message to her and she set to work, looking for patterns and possible word choices. Ten minutes later she passed the decoded message back to him. “You might want to brush up on your Greek mythology. The transmission references a Project _Endymion_.”

Daniel smiled, astonished she had worked out the message so quickly. “Thanks, Peggy.” He gestured to her casework. “What about your assignment? Maybe there’s something I can help you with?”

Peggy decided she’d let him try. Daniel had an incredible memory; if anyone could find a missing link, it would be him. “What do you know about Norwegian businessmen and hydroelectricity? This man is almost certainly a Nazi and he is most definitely up to something. We keep seeing activity at his hydroelectric plant—more than usual, anyway—but we have no idea what could be in the trucks that surveillance picked up.”

The question was rhetorical of course, and Daniel took the case file from her. He flipped through each file before holding up a sheet of paper. “This plant in Norway. In Telemark. I think I know this place. What do you have on it?”  
  
“Our mark, Gunnar Mathisen, used to own it. It was destroyed during the war.”

“Right! I do know it!” A look of recognition crossed his face.  “During the war, they prepped our paratrooper brigade for a sabotage op on this place before they re-tasked us and gave the mission to the British.”

“You served in a paratrooper brigade? You never mentioned that!” Peggy was already impressed with Daniel’s war record but her esteem of him went up a notch. You didn’t get to be a paratrooper without being highly skilled.

“It didn’t seem important to mention and it never came up.” He shrugged.  “But for whatever reason, the Allied forces really wanted this plant dead and buried. I heard that the British mission failed because of bad weather but a squad of Norwegians carried out a successful sabotage and the plant was later bombed in an air raid.”

“So whatever he was really doing at that plant, he wants to do here. I keep thinking he’s building a weapons factory but usually you’d want to build one near a transportation hub or a metal mine.” She also wondered if he might be hiding any remaining Hydra artifacts inside the plant.

“Ask Stark. I bet you he’ll know,” Daniel replied, handing the folder back to Peggy.

“Howard?”

Daniel nodded. “His name was all over the op file when we got it. He must have been consulted a lot before they decided the facility was important enough for a sabotage mission.”

“Thank you, Daniel. You’ve been a great help.”

“So have you,” he smiled genially. “I’d better get going. You heading out?”

Peggy realized the hour was late and this close to Christmas, Howard was no doubt out entertaining his friends—his lady friends—but she would certainly call him first thing tomorrow, Christmas Eve or no. “Yes, let me get my coat.”

They locked up the office together and, as Daniel was taking tomorrow off, she wished him a Happy Christmas before departing ways.

————————————*————————————

It was the morning of Christmas Eve and Howard had somehow talked Steve into visiting the SSR office with him.

“I need to check on an experiment and talk to the lab technician. C’mon Steve, you’d only have to be there for ten minutes.”

Steve hesitated. “I don’t want Peggy to think that I’m stalking her or anything. She asked me to give her some space.”

“For Christ sakes, yer not stalking her, you’re only coming to the office with me. Ten minutes, in and out! We’ll go to Radio City Music Hall afterward,” he promised.

Steve finally relented, and Howard had Jarvis drive them to the office.

Of course, nothing ever quite went to plan when it came to Howard and this was no exception.

After Howard had talked to the lab technician and made sure his experiment wasn’t going to explode if it was left alone on Christmas day, they were about to leave when Peggy caught up with them in the front entrance.

“Oh good! I called this morning for you but Mr. Jarvis said you’d be here in person. I’m glad I caught you. Howard, I need you to look at this case file for me.”

“A case file? The great Agent Peggy Carter needs me to consult on her case file?” Typical Howard, he would not let the moment go.

Peggy took it good-naturedly. She rolled her eyes and mock-threatened, “Keep gloating and I might accidentally tip over your experiment.” Howard was serious then, following her back to the bullpen. Steve tried to say that he would wait in the front entrance, but Howard wasn’t having any of it and dragged him along.

“I have a Norwegian businessman who is almost certainly a Nazi, a hydroelectric plant in the Catskills, an encrypted message in Norwegian, and _this_.” Peggy brought forward a picture of another hydroelectric plant and its documentation. “Daniel says that this plant in Telemark was the site of a sabotage mission against the Nazis, and that you’d been consulted prior to their decision to target it.”

Howard’s eyes grew wide and he looked at Peggy in half-shock, half-fear. “Your mark wants to create a hydrogen bomb.”

“A hydrogen bomb?” Steve interjected.

“Explosion bigger than an atomic bomb, with less radioactive fallout. Theoretically, the technology is five, six years away but—”

With Nazis and Hydra, they’d seen a _lot_ of technology that was plenty more than five or six years away. And though he’d only been revived from the ice two weeks ago, even Steve understood the magnitude of the situation.

Howard went on, “There’s only one reason why you’d want a hydroelectric plant for suspicious activity, and that’s to make heavy water. In regular hydrogen, the atom doesn’t have any neutrons. Deuterium is just a second type of hydrogen—much rarer—where the atom has one neutron. Since water is made up of one oxygen and two hydrogens, when the hydrogens are deuterated, the neutrons are what make the water ‘heavy.’ Heavy water reactors are used to take uranium-238 and turn it into plutonium, a component of the H bomb along with deuterium.”

Peggy rifled through her papers, bringing up a hand-written sheet of paper. “This is a cargo manifest in Norwegian that I decoded yesterday. I kept seeing the number 238. I thought maybe it was a time of day or a day of the month but—”

Howard shook his head. “Holy _Christ_. Look, it even says ‘Uran.’ No, this is definitely for Uranium-238.”

“He’s been shipping it to the power plant for months! There’s no telling how far along he might be,” she said.

“And being located so close to New York, I think I can guess what his first target is gonna be when he’s done,” Steve added. The more Howard explained, the more horrifying the plan grew in magnitude. He set his jaw, knowing exactly what he was supposed to do next. “We have to stop him right away.”

Peggy nodded. “We need a plan. We need a way to get in unseen, we need blueprints for the plants, and we need Howard to tell us how to turn off the production.”

“There’s no time to explain the complexities of how a nuclear reactor is shut on and off,” said Howard. “I’ll need to come with you inside the building. And if they really are that far along, we can’t just blow up the plant, knowing the kind of volatile material they have. Peggy, can you call for a full SSR team? We’ll need a lot of backup on this one. And while you do that, I need to call to the city power authority. They’ll have a copy of the plant blueprints so at least we’ll have a starting point.”

With nothing to do yet, Steve paced the office and waited with baited breath as Howard and Peggy placed their calls.

Several minutes later, he heard Peggy practically shouting into the phone. “Jack, this is not a joke! I need to pull yourself together and scramble a team for this. Or do you want to be responsible for New York being blown up by a nuclear weapon?”

Clearly, she was having trouble getting reinforcements. Steve mouthed, “ _Can I help?_ ”

Peggy shook her head but she did run with the idea. “Captain Rogers is here with me. Do you need him to explain the gravity of the situation or are you going to get us the back-up that we need?”

With his enhanced hearing, Steve heard Thompson’s reply through the receiver and knew that he had relented.

“I need enough reinforcements to surround the perimeter—at least 400 men but as many as you’ve got—and I need a tactical team to guard Howard. _Yes_ , Howard Stark. He’s the only one who knows how to shut off the reactor without killing us all! Can you send the 107th? Yes, alright. We’ll meet you there. Thank you.”

“The 107th?” he asked once she was off the phone.

“Yes, the Howling Commandos are one of our few tactical units.”  
  
“The Howlies are still going?” He felt a pang of longing for the Commandos as they had been—before Bucky had died.

Peggy nodded. “Yes, though it isn’t with your team. Only Dugan is still on it. He’s lead, and he’s trained up the other agents quite nicely.”

They were interrupted by Howard, who had finished his phone call. “We need to head over to City Hall to pick up the blueprints before they close for the day. Any luck with headquarters?”

————————————*————————————

On the way to City Hall, Peggy explained that Jack would be there himself with reinforcements for the operation scheduled to begin tonight. He and his military-equipped units, along with some police, would hide out in the woods surrounding the plant, cutting off all escape for anyone who tried to get away. Meanwhile, Peggy, Steve, the Commandos, and Howard would infiltrate the plant. Peggy and Steve would look for files and information about the project while Howard and the Commandos located the nuclear reactors and any other laboratories.

Night had fallen and Jarvis drove them up from the city to the rendezvous point in the Catskills. Howard rode shotgun with him, and while he understood the importance of what they were about to do, it didn’t stop him from moaning that this was disrupting his Christmas party plans for tomorrow. Peggy ignored him.

It was a bizarre scenario to be outfitted in tactical gear and armed to the teeth while sitting next to Steve in the back of one of Howard’s most luxurious cars as they drove to the mission site.

“This isn’t what I pictured doing on Christmas Eve. I’m betting it ain’t what you had in mind, either,” Steve said with a grin, trying to make conversation.

Despite her efforts to the contrary, Peggy found herself smiling back. “Duty calls. Besides, we’ve had worse Christmases than this.”

Steve laughed. “Northern France, winter of ‘44! I don’t think anybody could forget that.”

No, they couldn’t, Peggy thought, and it was largely thanks to Steve himself. They’d had troops trapped behind enemy lines for weeks. And on Christmas day, no less, Steve led a mission that successfully broke through the lines and relieved the division. Once the papers got word of it, they dubbed it “Captain America’s Christmas Miracle.” Steve had been rather embarrassed at the time. He insisted that he had done nothing special, just coming to the aid of his fellow allies and countrymen. That’s what made Steve so special—he was filled with such sense of duty and righteousness but managed to remain humble through it all, never believing any of the hype about himself.

“We’ve reached the rendezvous point,” Jarvis announced, switching off the engine. He looked over nervously. “Are you sure you all know what you’re doing?”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Jarvis,” Peggy told him. “We’ll be back in no time.”

“Thanks, Jarvis, we’ll take it from here,” said Howard. “The radio is set to Chief Thompson’s frequency, and this is your wireless radio receiver to communicate with us. You man the radios and we’ll call you if we need backup.” He patted Jarvis’ arm, but the butler didn’t seem reassured.

Nevertheless, the three of them clambered out of the car. Peggy switched on her radio receiver to Jack’s frequency and called out, “Thompson, we are at the rendezvous site. Are you in place?”

“Thompson here. The pink elephants are waiting in the wings,” came the reply. That was his code phrase to signal that he hadn’t been compromised. “Call us when you need backup. Over and out.”

“Roger that. Over and out.”

As the radio communication went silent, Peggy heard a rustling in the trees. She put herself on alert, hoping it was only the 107th.

“Emu! I mean, Eagle! Peggy, is that you?”

Peggy knew that voice anywhere. “Dugan! I see you finally remembered the password.”

Sure enough, none other than Dum Dum Dugan and the 107th tactical team rounded the corner. They stopped in their tracks the minute they laid eyes on Steve, and the two men with Dugan let out audible gasps of awe.

“It’s Captain America!”

“They said you were dead!”

“Man, he’s a _legend_. No one can kill Captain America!” They argued amongst themselves.

“Pinky! Sam! Straighten up,” Dugan said. He smiled when he laid eyes on Steve for the first time. “Steve! Man, I couldn’t believe it when Peggy told me who would be coming on the mission with her. When we’re done, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do.” Dugan caught Steve in a full-on bear hug that was returned with equal vigour.

“Good to see you too, Dum Dum,” Steve replied.

“Fellas,” Dugan said, addressing his team. “This is Captain Rogers, Howard Stark, and of course you know Peggy. Cap, this is my tactical team—Happy Sam Sawyer and Pinky Pinkerton.”

Steve shook their hands and the two men wore schoolboy expressions of awe. Peggy could swear she heard one of them mutter, _“I’m never washing that hand again!_ ”

“All right!” she interrupted. “Listen up. This is what we’re going to do.” She laid out the plan they had devised on the way up, and after several minutes of explaining the layout of the compound, they headed for the northwest entrance, which was closest to where they needed to be.

It appeared that the plant had a minimal security force tonight in the run-up before Christmas. It took no time at all for Steve to knock out the lone outside guard, and tie him up and out of the way. Once inside, the two teams turned on their radio communications and wished each other luck before going their separate ways.

Between her and Steve, Peggy took the lead and he followed down the narrow, twisting hallways as they headed in the direction of the main office. They encountered two guards on their way, one that Peggy had spotted first and the other that Steve had knocked out right as he tried to ambush Peggy.

Finally, they made it to the office. It was locked, but Steve solved that problem easily by breaking off the entire doorknob. They rushed into the room, declared it all clear, and got to work looking through the files.

Over on his side, Steve announced that he’d found more encrypted messages in Norwegian and gathered them up to take with him. Meanwhile, Peggy recovered complex diagrams of machinery as well as chemical symbols and equations. It must have been the advanced research, five years ahead of its time, which Howard had mentioned. She rifled through all the files she could, picking up what looked important along the way, when she stumbled across a file written not in Norwegian, but in Russian. Проект Эндимион. _Project Endymion_. She snatched it up.

Peggy looked through the files and folders one last time to make sure she hadn’t missed anything important, and then called it in. “We should be getting back. Are you finished, Steve?”

“Yeah. Here’s what I found.” They gathered up the folders and stuffed them into Peggy’s rut sack.

Just then, they heard a loud yelp and what sounded like gunfire on the other end of their receivers. “Howard! Dugan! What’s going on?!”

“A little busy here, Peggy! I think we found their secret hide-out! You got any backup? We’re at the northeast corner!”

“We’re on our way!” Peggy replied. She and Steve made a mad dash to get to Dugan and the rest, occasionally hampered by guards or soldiers who had gotten wind that intruders were here, all the while radioing Jack and the reinforcements outside not to let anyone slip through.  

If they hadn’t been under heavy gunfire, Peggy would have said that watching Steve charge into the main laboratory was a thing of beauty. Fearless, he barreled through the enemy while they were still shooting at him, knocking out anyone firing at Dugan’s team.

“There’s a second chamber over there,” Howard said, pointing behind him. “Some of the scientists went that way.”

Peggy ran as fast as she could and sure enough, a stream of scientists carrying as much equipment as they could were heading out through what looked to be a secret tunnel. To her great surprise, Gunnar Mathisen was there, dressed impeccably in a white suit as he gathered up several critical test tubes and looked to be the last one out.

“Mathisen! Stop right there!”

He paused, looking up as an automatic reflex and he seemed surprised to find that it was Peggy calling his name. A nasty smile on his face, he said, "Ah, you again! Not a reporter at all, are you? I’m afraid I can’t stay, _Miss Robinson._ Goodbye.” She shot at him but missed and followed in pursuit, Steve hot at her heels.

When she caught up to him, Mathisen was winded. She tackled him to the ground and wrenched his arms behind his back while he put up little resistance. It was easy, quick work to apprehend him. Too easy, in fact. And just as she had him under control, Steve shouted, “DUCK, PEGGY!”

She immediately hit the ground, putting all her weight on Mathisen, and heard the sound of a bullet flying over her head. It ricocheted off Steve’s shield and she heard the groan of a bullet that had hit a mark. Peggy made sure to securely tie up Mathisen before getting back up. When she turned around, she found another guard dead on the floor with a gun still in his hand, only twenty feet away. She turned back to Steve, realizing exactly how close she had come to an untimely demise. “Thank you.”

He nodded and then Happy Sam Sawyer came running up. “We’ve secured the other labs and called in the reinforcements. They’ve surrounded the building and the guards have been taken out.”

With Mathisen still in hand, Peggy said, “Looks like a job well done.”

 

They stayed through the wee hours of Christmas morning to ensure that everyone who had been on the premises was apprehended. Peggy personally handed over Mathisen to the head of the S.H.I.E.L.D. reinforcement team, who took him into a securely locked transport vehicle. Howard spent several hours in a clunky, protective suit, working hard to safely shut down the nuclear reactors and secure all radioactive material while Jarvis worried after all of them, acting as informal medic to treat the cuts and scrapes that everyone had acquired from the raid (in Steve’s case, it was a giant bullet hole that he seemed genuinely surprised to find half-embedded in his suit and half-embedded in his skin, that healed before they even left the site).

Jack Thompson introduced them to a top-level director of the SSR who had insisted that, if his reinforcements were coming on the mission, then he was, too. The director, as well as Jack, commended them for their terrific work. Well, at first the director only commended Steve, thinking the mission had been Captain America’s idea. Steve wasn’t shy about telling him that it was Peggy who had investigated and cracked the case, and that it was Peggy who had organized the op and apprehended Mathisen. He seemed surprised at first, but then said, “I guess I know where she gets it from.”

“Actually, sir,” Steve said, stepping up with a gleam in his eye, “I get it from her.”

He mumbled something unintelligible before sauntering off to check the status of his troops.

Before long, the mission was completely wrapped up and, satisfied that the facility was totally secured and that the radioactive material was carted off to an SSR facility, Peggy, Steve, Howard, and the Commandos finally headed home for a nice, long morning nap. For his part, Howard was pleased that his evening Christmas party hadn’t been disrupted, and everyone else was pleased to be invited to his fine Christmas plans with friends.

For New Year’s Eve, Howard had booked the top floor of a nightclub building that overlooked both Times Square and the fireworks in Central Park, but for Christmas he had booked the Stork Club for the entire evening.

As she got ready for the party that evening, Peggy’s mind was on what to do about Steve more than it was on her dress and hair. When she had asked Howard to look at her case yesterday morning, she never imagined that Steve would be there, or that she would allow him to get involved in her mission. But when he had so automatically declared that they needed to tackle it together, as though it was a given, it felt _right_. It felt right to plan their strategy together and it felt right to have Steve at her back as they raced through the compound. They’d gone on missions together during the war but this felt different, somehow. Without the gloom of war and the awareness that the weight of the whole war was on their shoulders, it felt more comfortable, more intimate. Before the mission, the thought of losing Steve again had felt insurmountable, but while they were inside? She felt more at ease with him than ever.

She realized she trusted Steve implicitly. She was able to lead the way because she knew Steve had her six o’clock, and when he said “duck,” she had reacted immediately because she trusted his judgment. And reflecting back on it, she wasn’t afraid to let him do it again.

Peggy could finally admit to herself that she had never stopped loving him at all. Oh, sure, if he hadn’t been found by Howard, she would have been able to go on without him. She _had_ been going on without him. And maybe that, most of all, was the difference. Angie was right—it was better to have loved and lost than never loved at all, and now she knew that she _could_ weather the storm if she was ever to lose Steve again. Peggy felt so foolish; she had been wasting all this time fighting against, well, herself. She didn’t need to anymore.

She went to her closet, searching in the back for the memories that she had stored away. Peggy pulled out a dusty, taped up box and with a pair of scissors she cut straight through it, destroying the shoebox to pull out its treasured contents. A wave of emotions—affection, love, longing—crashed over her as she examined each memory. The letters and the drawings and the pictures of Steve were all there, waiting for her again. _No_ , she thought. _Steve_ was waiting for her again.

She glanced at the clock; Howard’s party would be starting in a few hours. She’d better get moving if she wanted to be there on time.

————————————*————————————

Since Steve had arrived to the Stork Club with Howard, he greeted everyone as they came in: Mr. and Mrs. Jarvis, the Commandos, some of the SSR agents that had been invited, and the many socialites of Howard’s acquaintance.  He had even greeted Angie Martinelli, who had been invited by Peggy, but there was no sign of the latter.

Steve was at the bar, leaning on the counter with a drink in hand, when finally he spotted Peggy in the the crowd. She had, too.

“Peggy!” He straightened up as she quickened her step toward him.

“Steve.” She smiled warmly.

“You look amazing. I mean— that is— well I—” Steve felt a blush creep up on him as he fumbled over his words. _Real smooth, Rogers_.

Peggy laughed. “It’s all right.”  
  
“I know this dress.” He recalled with perfect clarity the first time she wore it, just a few nights after he had rescued Bucky from the Hydra factory and the same night they had formed the Howling Commandos in a nightclub like this. He pointed to the red bloom in her hair, “Is that the flower I sent you?”

Peggy nodded. “Can we talk?”

Steve led her away from the noisy dance floor and the jostling people ordering at the bar to a quiet corner farther away. He noticed that Peggy wrung her hands, and he waited with baited breath for whatever she was about to say.

Finally, she began, “I’m afraid I’ve rather made a fool out of myself these past few weeks.”

“Peggy, you could never—”

She held up a hand and he stopped. “Please, let me get this out. As you know, for the past few years I’ve had a difficult time dealing with losing you. Eventually, I learned how to cope, as most people do, and perhaps I learned to cope too well. Steve, when you came back, it was a complete shock to me. I’d—I’d locked that part of myself away and I didn’t know how to find it. And I was...afraid to find it again. But I’m not afraid anymore. I want to go on more missions like today’s with you, and I want to come home with you and I want to spend my time with you for as long as we have.”

Peggy swallowed, and he could tell this next part was difficult for her, but she pressed on. “I’m sorry I’ve been so foolish and I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you because of it. When you gave me this,” she touched the flower in her hair, “you asked me for a second chance. And I’m saying yes.”

Steve drew in a sharp breath. A million emotions went through him, and he knew that in the coming days and weeks, they would talk about this more. But Steve had waited so long for this moment and now those words could wait. He smiled radiantly and held out his hand to her. “In that case, may I have this dance?”

“You may.” She took his hand and he led her out to the dance floor where the tunes of Harry James and Kitty Kallen sang out.

 _“But words can wait until some other day_  
_Kiss me once, then kiss me twice_  
_Then kiss me once again_  
_It's been a long, long time.”_

And together, they danced the night away.

————————————*————————————

It turned out that three weeks could make a huge difference in one’s life. Not only had Peggy reunited with Steve, but the SSR was undergoing a major restructuring in the new year.

It was why she was in the office packing up her bags. Steve was here under the pretense of helping her out, but really she knew it was an excuse to spend more time with her. She didn’t mind.

“What about this?” Steve held up another folder.

“Yes, I need that. It’s got information on Leviathan that I’ll need.”

“Leviathan? Just how much did I miss?”

Peggy smiled. “A lot, but we’ll get you caught up. Are you still sure you want to pack up and move to Washington?”

“Home is where the heart is.” He grinned broadly. “It doesn’t matter where we go, as long as I’m with you.”

She blushed and kept packing; Steve could be so cheesy, but she loved it.

Evidently, Howard and their old friend Colonel Phillips had been in talks with Congress and the Pentagon to form a new intelligence organization, called S.H.I.E.L.D. (Howard was unable to confirm nor deny that the abbreviation had anything to do with Captain America’s shield). The SSR was good at research and investigative work surrounding scientific research items, but it wasn’t always as well equipped at threat-response, covert intelligence, or long-term international investigations. S.H.I.E.L.D. would take a broader response to intelligence and security measures. The SSR would be subsumed as a research division and the agents would be assigned to other departments that had room to grow.

Congress and the Pentagon had hesitated at the need for such an organization, but the Christmas incident with Mathisen had been the turning point to convince them. And it was Peggy’s deductive work and quick thinking that had persuaded them, at Phillips’ and Howard’s urging, to name her as the new director of S.H.I.E.L.D., headquartered in Washington, DC.

Many of the agents in her office made no effort to hide their jealousy and several of them openly sneered, claiming that the only reason she got the promotion was because she was _Captain America’s girlfriend_.

Steve had been about to set them straight, but it was, surprisingly, Thompson who had come to her defense several mornings ago. He announced to the entire office what a capable agent she was, and how she had saved New York from being blown up by a nuclear weapon—which was as much as Captain America had ever done—and therefore she deserved every bit of this promotion.

It didn’t hurt that Jack knew it was Peggy who would have the final word on what division he would be assigned to under the new structure, but still, she could tell that some of it was sincere and she was grateful for that.

She and Steve were working on filling the next box when she noticed Daniel entering the bullpen. He was the one agent who had been supportive of her promotion from the very beginning.

“Finished packing, Agent—I mean, Director Carter?” he asked her teasingly.

“Almost. Are you sure you don’t want to move to DC?” She had offered him a top-level directorship, and he had accepted, but only on the condition that the division was located in New York.

“Positive. No, I came to tell you, both of you, something else.”

“What is it?” Steve asked.

“Well, I think I’ve found S.H.I.E.L.D.’s first full-blown, cross-divisional operation. That case I’ve been working on, the one about the West German diplomat?”

“Yes, go on,” said Peggy, shuffling papers into a box.

“The file on Project Endymion that you picked up had even more encoded information in Russian and the guys finally decrypted it. All evidence points to the hit as the work of a Soviet ‘ghost’ assassin.”

“A Soviet? Hmm. That sounds ominous. We’ll certainly have to treat it as high profile,” replied Peggy. “What did you say his name was, Daniel?”

“They call him the Winter Soldier.”

“The Winter Soldier?” Steve repeated. “Well, whoever he is, we’ll deal with him together.” He exchanged looks with Peggy, and she smiled back.

“We certainly will.”

_The End._

**Author's Note:**

> The **potted flower** that Steve gives Peggy is _Camellia japonica_ , sometimes called the Rose of winter. The variety he purchased is a formal double. It’s Victorian flower meaning—at least based on a website with meanings used by Kate Middleton for her wedding—is, “My destiny is in your hands.” A little overwrought, but Steve is accused of being dramatic in canon so I think it works, yeah?
> 
>  **[Zarah Leander](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zarah_Leander) ** was the lead actress and singer in the Nazis’ most successful propaganda movie, _Die_ _groβe Liebe_ , and the inscription for Gunnar is from a song in the movie. After the war, Leander staunchly maintained that she had never supported Nazism and was merely an entertainer for people in a difficult time. (I’ve alluded to that uncertainty in the inscription, “To Gunnar, In **_your_** words… etc.” as if perhaps Gunnar insisted she write that. We’ll never know!) Just to be totally clear, the majority of Norwegians detested the Nazis and fought against them. Gunnar just happens to be one of the very few who supported the regime.
> 
> The **raids on the Vemork hydroelectric power plant** in Telemark really did happen, and the Norwegian plant was specifically sabotaged because of its heavy water activity. You can read more on the [Wikipedia article](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Norwegian_heavy_water_sabotage), or from this [very cool scientist](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fyK6kPi8k78), where I first learned about it.
> 
> The H bomb **components** are mostly accurate as far as I know and since the NSA is probably reading this (hi!), you can google the rest if you’re that interested.
> 
> Angie’s musical is actually an animated movie from 1990 (nostalgia!), **_The Nutcracker Prince_** , and the dialog is nearly verbatim. In the movie, Clara has to choose between two things, just as Peggy does here.
> 
>  **Endymion** was a mortal man in Greek mythology who was put into an eternal sleep to preserve his beauty, and is of course a reference to cryofreeze.


End file.
